


It's Time to Grow Up, Peter Pan

by LizardOnIce27



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-05-08
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:50:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LizardOnIce27/pseuds/LizardOnIce27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When forced to get a job, Pete becomes friends with Patrick.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Everyone Has to Grow Up

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing
> 
> I know their age difference in this is wrong.

“You’re twenty years old! You have to stop acting like a child and get a job. I refuse to support you for the rest of your life just because you flunked out of college.” my father clenches his fists in frustration.

“Dad I have a j-”

“Fucking around with a guitar is _not_ a job! Not even if you made money for it!”

“It’s a bass. And I’ve been making money at local shows. I just need-”

“What you need, Peter, is to get a job. You have three days. If you don’t find a job, you’re out. Understand?” 

I nod, holding back the angry words begging to slip out of my lips.

 

I spend the first day that I’m supposed to be job searching walking around stores aimlessly, spending money I don’t have. I meet my friend Joe at a record store, to talk about starting a band together. My current band is falling to pieces, and I don’t care what my dad wants, I will not barely survive on a ‘normal job’. Fuck that.

“Aww poor little baby has to get a job.” Joe rolls his eyes as we look through records.

“Shut up, it sucks.” I glare at him.

“Of course it sucks, it’s work.” he shrugs.

“I probably shouldn’t be fucking off today since I have three days to find a job..”

“You what?” Joe stops looking through records to turn to me.

I shrug, “Three days to find a job or I’m out on my ass.”

Joe rolls his eyes, “Problem solved, c’mere.” He grabs my wrist and pulls me to the counter, “Hey Patrick, no one’s applied for that job yet right?”

The guy behind the counter, raises an eyebrow, “Nope it’s still all me. Offering your services so you can sneak records out?”

“Oh hell no. Plus I sneak out records enough.” Joe grins.

The guy behind the counter, tucked underneath a beanie cleans his glasses lenses on his shirt before looking at Joe expectantly, “So, what? Why’d you ask.”

“Because Pete,” he pushes me forward, “Needs a job.”

Patrick’s eyes move from Joe to myself, as if he’s just now noticing me, “Oh hi...”

“Hey.” I flash him my most irresistible grin.

“I’m not really in charge or anything, but considering the manager is never here... do you want to work here?” he shrugs.

“No I don’t...but I need it.” I shrug.

Patrick sighs, “Well here, fill this out and I’ll give it to Jim. Come here tomorrow at seven.”

“Seven? Hell yes!” I grin.

“AM.” Patrick rolls his eyes.

“What?” I whine.

“Look it’s that or you can find someone else to hire you. I personally don’t care.” he takes a stack of records and walks away, putting them each in their proper place.

I snort, “Fuck this, I could find a better job if I showed up for an interview naked.” I storm out.

 

 

It’s day three and I haven’t got shit. Joe apologized to Patrick for my behavior but I highly doubt the job offer still exists. Half the places turned me down because of my tattoos. I don’t see why they should be a problem, it’s _my_ body. If my tattoos were offensive, I’d understand, but they’re not! I sigh and walk into the record store, prepared to get on my knees and beg for this job with a guy who can’t stand me. Great.

Patrick struggles through a long line of people as I walk in. I stand to the side, out of the way.

“Kid, I’ve been asking you to find this record for me for ten minutes!” an angry man growls.

“I-I’m sorry sir, I’ll be right there, I-I’m sorry!” Patrick stammers handing the wrong customer their change.

I look around at the pandemonium before me before walking over, “I can help you with that, sir, what album are you looking for?”

I lead him to the right section as Patrick’s eyes widen in shock. I help the rest of the customers having trouble finding albums, thinning out the line for Patrick. Once the store empties, he lets out a sigh of relief, before turning to me.

“I...Thank you.” he bites his lip.

I smile, “No problem Patrick... by the way, I was a dick two days ago and...” I get down on my knees and grab his hands, “Will you marry me?”

“What!?” he squeaks.

I chuckle, “Hire me, that is.”

“Uh... well I’m not in charge-”

“You totally are.”

“And I mean, it isn’t up to me-”

“Yes it is.”

“But yeah, any chance you filled out the application?” he raises an eyebrow.

“About that.” I stand upright, “I lost it in a fire.”

He rolls his eyes, and jerks his hands out of mine before handing me an application, “There, fill this out and...instead of coming in tomorrow could you please stay?” he bites his lip, “It’s just, it’s a Friday night and-”

“I’ll stay, ‘Trick.” I smile and take the application, filling it out on the counter.

“Thank-What’d you call me?” 

“It’s called a nickname.” I nod and continue filling out the application, “Or would you prefer Pattycakes?” I look up to see his face redden.

“Don’t call me that.” He glares at me.

“Aww that’s what you’re mommy calls you, isn’t it!” I grin at him.

His blush deepens, “I’d fire you if I didn’t fucking need someone else.”

“And I’d push you to fire me if I didn’t need this job.” I wink at him.

He rolls his eyes and swears under his breath.

“Hey so how old are you anyways? You look like sixteen.”

“Seventeen.” he mumbles.

“You’re seventeen and you like, run this place? What about school?”

“Graduated.” he checks a customer out, “Have a good night, sir.”

The guy with spiked hair snorts, “Sir?”

Patrick flushes, “I, sorry?”

“It’s called respect.” I step in, “You could show some by thanking him and walking your ass out the door.”

“Pete!” I groan, as the guy slams the door, “You can’t talk to people like that!”

“Calm down ‘Trick it was one guy. And he was rude.”

“It doesn’t matter how fucking rude- Hello!” his expression changes mid-sentence as a group of teenagers walk in.

I chuckle lightly, “Sorry, Sorry. I’ll learn to switch to robot when people are in the store.”

“Good.” He shoves my shoulder lightly, “Because I really don’t want to go back to being the only person working here.”

I nod, “And I really need a job, so I’ll behave.”

“Good, because Joe’s told me a lot of unpleasant things about you that I’d love to forget.” he mumbles before ringing up the records and giving the girl her change, the group of teenagers leaving.

I frown, “What kind of stuff?”

“I’ve known Joe for a while who’s known you for a while, I’ve heard a lot about you for years. To give a few examples? You suck at holding a job, don’t do that here please because again I need someone else here. You consider yourself “gay above the waist” and I haven’t a fucking clue what that means, you either like di- Hello!” he blushes and helps a customer find a few records.

I chuckle and finish the application.

 

“Closing time at last.” Patrick sighs and locks the door before counting the register down.

“So did you almost say the word dick?” I grin as he drops dimes all over the floor in surprise. 

“Shut up.” he mumbles, collecting the dimes. 

I kneel down to help him, “Sorry man... I shouldn’t find such enjoyment in making your face as red as a tomato.”

“Please stop talking.” he grumbles.

“Aww is Pattycakes grumpy without his nap?” I smirk.

“Call me that one more time and I will slit your throat with the closest record.” he stands upright and finishes counting the drawer.

I don’t know why my eyes drift up towards his ass, but they do. And I’m not particularly complaining about the view. I quickly stand up and nudge his arm.

“What?” he groans.

“Want me to explain the gay above the waist thing?”

He rolls his eyes and pulls on his jacket, “Sure, enlighten me.”

“I’d probably make out with anything human...but sex is kind of different...”

“So you’d make out with a guy, but not sleep with him?” he walks outside and holds the door open for me.

“Thanks.” I step through and watch him lock it, “And yeah, basically.”

“So, _basically_ you’re a glorified tease?” he snorts.

I frown, “No, that’s not-”

He shrugs, “I’m just saying.”

“What the fuck do you know anyways?” I ask, getting angry, “You’ve got virgin written all over your face.”

“Oh, ow, I’m wounded.” He rolls his eyes, fighting back a smile.

Our eyes meet and we both burst into laughter.

Once I can breath, I pat his back, “By the way, don’t take the virgin thing to heart...”

He shakes his head, “It’s fine. I don’t mind. I probably do have it written all over my face.”

 

“Want to know a secret?” I whisper.

He nods, intrigued.

“I’m a virgin too.”

His eyes widen, “You liar.”

I giggle and shake my head, “No, seriously. And _no one_ believes me!”

“That’s probably because you’ve got the most inflated ego in Chicago, and well...look at you.” he shrugs, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“What do you mean?” I tilt my head as we walk down the sidewalk.

“You’re hot, Pete, and you know it.” he shrugs again, staring at his feet.

“Aww you think I’m hot?” I grin.

“Shut up.”

“Oh, wait you’re gay?”

His cheeks redden, “I might be, shut up.”

I throw my arms around his shoulder, “Marry me?”

“No Pete... so why do you need a job?”

“Basically, my dad’s kicking me out otherwise because he doesn’t find music to be a sensible career choice...he wants me to have a real job...and I don’t mean to whine like a bitch but I just don’t want an ordinary job. I want to make music.”

“I do too.” he nods, “It’s why I work at the record store. It’s not quite what I want to be doing, but there’s music and that helps.”

“Joe and I are starting a band, you know.” I nudge him, “What do you play?”

“Drums.” he shrugs, “I’ve been in and out of bands but eventually I had to grow up and get a job.”

“You’re seventeen.” I point out, “Legally you aren’t grown up.”

He smiles sadly, “Mentally I have to be.”

I shake my head, “No you don’t, not yet.” I grab his hands, “Instead we should run away to Neverland.”

He chuckles softly, “Sounds nice, but everyone has to grow up eventually, Peter Pan.” he smiles, “This is my street, see you Monday.”

“Wait! We should hang out tomorrow.”

“Maybe.” he smiles, “Night.”


	2. Stalking your coworker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete convinces Joe to take him to Patrick's house with him.

“Decided to come pack your shit?” My father snarls as I walk in the door.

“Nope, decided to come home and sleep.” I walk to my bedroom.

“I believe your three days are up.” He replies.

“And I believe I have a job.” I slam my door and kick off my shoes.

 

I wake up and stretch out on the bed, more grateful than ever I’m still in bed and not crashing on Joe’s couch. I get up and make myself a bowl of cereal, also pretty grateful dad is at work, and not here to bother me. I drink my milk as I hear a knock on the door. 

“Wentz, open up!” Joe yells through the door.

I grin and hurry to the door, “Hello Joseph.”

He rolls his eyes, “So you never told me if you found a job or not...Are you crashing on my couch or not?”

“Not.” I let him in, “Got a job, thanks by the way.”

He walks in and raises an eyebrow, “The only job I could have helped you get, you kinda fucked off.”

“Yeah, but I went back.” I smile, “It was packed, so I helped.”

“And he just let you stay?”

“He asked me to stay. There were a few times he said he’d fire me but he really needs help, so.” I shrug.

Joe nods, “Oh...”

“Oh, do you know where he lives?” I wash my cereal bowl.

“Yes...but if you’re planning on stalking him-”

“I so am.” I grin.

“Then I’m not telling you where he lives.” Joe rolls his eyes.

I shrug, “I know which street, I’ll just have to peek in every window, probably creep out a _lot_ of families nearby.”

He groans, “Fine I’ll take you to his house, I’ve been meaning to talk to him anyways.”

“About what?” I grab clothes out of the dryer.

“Guitar stuff.” he shrugs.

“I thought he played drums.” I change my shirt.

He shrugs, “He does. And guitar, and piano, and a few other million instruments.”

My eyes widen as I pull on a pair of pants, “Holy shit man. Is he any good?”

Joe nods, “He is, his preference is drums, although he’s killer at guitar and bass.”

“Why’s he prefer drums?” I pull on my shoes and walk with Joe outside.

“I think it’s more he prefers to be in the background, you know? Plus it’s got to be good for his temper.” he snorts.

“Temper?” I raise an eyebrow, “He’s really good at hiding it.”

“At work, he has to.” Joe shrugs, “So he plays drums before he goes in.”

“But we open at 7:30....AM!” I get into his car.

Joe nods, “Yeah, his mom isn’t all that happy about it.” he starts the car and pulls out of the driveway, “But, she’s usually up by then anyways. It’s that or he beats the shit out of some customer. He’s a quiet guy, and he’s nice. But if you push too many buttons he’ll kick your ass.”

“That little guy?” I snort, “He couldn’t hurt a fly.”

Joe shakes his head, “I have a feeling you’ll be finding out the hard way.”

“Probably.” I grin, “But assuming I did push the right buttons, he’d definitely kick my ass because I’d be too shocked to fight back.”

 

Joe knocks on the door as I sway from side to side impatiently.

Patrick opens the door, a fedora placed on his head today, “Hi J-what are you doing here?” his eyes widen as he notices me.

“Sorry, he bugged me to let him come.” Joe mumbles.

“I can successfully stalk you now.” I grin.

Patrick groans and lets us in.

“Who was at the door Pattycakes?” his mother calls from the living room.

Patrick blushes deeply and glares at me, “Say a word and I’ll kill you.”

“Patrick stop threatening Joe, you won’t keep friends doing th- Oh hello.” his mother smiles over at me.

“He was actually threatening my life this time.” I grin, “I’m Pete.”

“Oh, so you’re the new guy at the record store.” she smiles and nudges her son.

Patrick’s face, which had just started to return to his normal shade of pale, reddens again as he mumbles inaudibly. 

His mom smiles and walks out of the room.

“C’mon.” Patrick mumbles and leads us to the basement, “Please don’t touch anything, because I don’t have the money to fix anything.”

My eyes widen as I look around the basement. There’s a drum set in one corner, and beside it there are two old guitars perched against the wall. A keyboard is on the other side of it.

“Why’d you bring me here if I can’t touch anything?” I touch the keyboard. 

He rolls his eyes, “Because this is just generally where Joe and I go...and I’m afraid you’ll break something.”

I pout, “I wouldn’t. And you never told me you played every instrument in existence.”

“That would be because I don’t.” Patrick shrugs.

“You’re currently between bands, right?” I ask.

He nods, “Mostly I stopped making time for a shitty band...that’s mean, but fuck it’s true.”

Joe laughs, “It is true, the singer sounded like he was dying.”

Patrick nods, “I started to get hopeful. Then I wouldn’t have to say I’m too busy for a band.”

I burst into laughter, “That’s... That’s so awful.” I toss my head back, laughing harder, “You’re not at all the innocent little angel you pretend to be.”

He sits at the drum set before saying, “And you’re not the bad ass you pretend to be.” he grins and picks up his drumsticks before doing a rimshot on the drums; ba dum pssh.

Joe snorts, “Really Patrick? That needed sound effects?”

I laugh along with Patrick before walking over and placing my hand on his shoulder, “Marry me?”

He rolls his eyes, “No.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case there's any confusion, this is a rimshot
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bcYppAs6ZdI


	3. True Friends are Golden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even after Joe leaves, Pete stays to hang out with Patrick. 
> 
> “I’m glad you work with me for more than just being alone there.” he smiles shyly.
> 
> I smile, “I’m glad I work with you for more than just not getting kicked out.”

Joe leaves around five for work, and instead of him taking me home on his way to work, I pout my way into staying. After eating sandwiches in the kitchen, and Patrick’s mother inviting me to stay for dinner, we go to Patrick’s room. Unlike the rest of the house, his room is a little messy and cluttered, but it’s not disgusting or anything. Books are stacked in a row along the wall beside his bed and records are piled on the desk. An acoustic guitar is propped against the wall beside the closet, and there are hats everywhere. The walls are covered in posters and he has a laptop beside the massive record pile. It’s organized chaos in this room. A bedroom says a lot about a person. Mine, for example, is messy. There are piles of dirty clothes and the books are in a pile, rather than neat stacks. My laptop is under my bed, and my bass is lying on top of one of the piles of dirty clothes. It’s pure messy chaos. My bass is probably the most important thing that I own, and it’s on a pile of dirty clothes. Despite my intentions, I’m not great at taking care of things I care about. That generally applies to people too. I’m also a lazy fucker, shown by the lack of cleanliness of my bedroom. What Patrick’s room says about him is almost completely the opposite. The things he cares about are in their proper place, and his room, although not perfect, shows effort. There’s chaos, but order as well. His mind so far seems to be the same way. The order, is the calm Patrick. The chaos is the short fuse Patrick has.

“Are you um, done looking around my bedroom?” He asks, sitting on his bed.

I grin, “It’s great.”

He blushes lightly and shrugs, “It’s just a room, Pete.”

“It’s _your_ room. And you are great.” I plop onto the bed beside him.

“Whatever.” he mumbles.

“I don’t really get it.” I look over at him.

“Get what?”

“Why you feel you need to grow up.” I shrug, “You’re mom doesn’t really seem demanding or anything.”

“She isn’t... long story short, my dad took off a few years ago. Just, left. Didn’t say why, didn’t even pack all his shit. Just grabbed a suitcase and filled it as much as he could while mom and I went grocery shopping.” he shrugs, “I mean, we were both pretty upset about it at first...I skipped school for about a week with Joe. But at the time we pretty much fully depended on his paycheck. Mom had a job, but it didn’t pay much. So she took on a second job, and I got one to help out. We eventually took all of his shit outside and set it on fire...” he smiles a little, “Except for the instruments. He used to get a little pissed when I’d try to play them, but now I can and...” he shrugs, “I kinda just taught myself to play them.” 

“What a dick.” he frowns, “Well how is everything now?”

“Good.” he nods, “I have a job that’s better and mom has a pretty good paying one and she doesn’t have to work two jobs now. She was against me getting a job, you know?” he looks to me, “It’s not like she told me it’s what we needed to do to pay bills. She told me I should focus on being a kid, and let her handle the bills. But she was looking for a third job..” he frowns, “I couldn’t let her work herself to death, you know?”

I smile at him, “Your consideration is a rarity, Patrick. Most kids... they’d have let her work herself to death and whine about not getting the newest video game or whatever, but you...” I shake my head and smile more, “You’re golden, Patrick.”

He blushes and rests his head on my shoulder, “Shut up.”

I smile and wrap my arm around his shoulders, “Never.”

He looks up to me, “Pete?”

“Hmm?” 

“I’m glad you work with me for more than just being alone there.” he smiles shyly.

I smile, “I’m glad I work with you for more than just not getting kicked out.” 

“There’s more to you than you let on.” he observes.

I nod, “There is. But I have this habit of sort of, trying to hide it.”

“Why?” he frowns, “You, no offense, but you act like a jerk all the time...but you aren’t.”

“Because aside from Joe? Everyone else I’ve opened up to....shown them I’m a person with feelings instead of this overconfident douche? They walked all over me. Used me. I don’t like...I don’t like feeling vulnerable, so I don’t let myself be.” I bite my lip.

“If you promise to be the real you around me... I promise not to take advantage.” he looks up into my eyes. His light blue oceans pouring into the darker shaded windows to my soul. I feel vulnerable. I’m scared. Panicked. But when his hand touches my arm, the panic subsides.

“On one condition.” I say softly.

“What’s that?” he gently squeezes my arm.

“Marry me?”

He rolls his eyes, “Are you going to ask me that every day?”

“Probably.” I grin.

“What if one day I say yes?”

“I’ll be the happiest person alive.” I nudge his shoulder, “But okay. I’ll try not to guard myself around you.”

He smiles, “Good, and I’ll do the same.” 

I turn to pull him into a hug. I’ve never felt right being myself around anyone, but with Patrick.. I think it’ll be okay.


	4. Sword Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re um... you’re drooling on my shoulder.” he laughs softly.

I didn’t mean to stay so late, but now Patrick’s asleep, curled into me. I don’t know if I should leave. I feel a bit like I’m over staying my welcome, but that feeling is much stronger at home. And if I move I’ll wake Patrick. I bite my lip and smile as I watch him sleeping. His chest slowly rises and falls with every breathe he takes. His lips are curved into almost a smile, and his glasses are crooked on his face. I carefully take off the glasses and reach over him to put them on the bedside table. He stirs a little, but stays asleep. Patrick sleeping is more adorable than puppies sleeping, so I decide to stay. Because I’d feel really bad if I woke up Patrick.

 

“Pete..” Patrick whispers, gently tapping my shoulder.

“Hmm?” I slowly open my eyes.

“You’re um... you’re drooling on my shoulder.” he laughs softly.

I blush and sit up, scooting away, “I-I’m sorry...” 

He wipes his shoulder off on my arm and grins, “It’s fine.”

I wipe the drool off my chin, blushing more, “Wasn’t aware I drooled.”

He laughs, covering his mouth, “Now you know?”

“I’m really sorry I probably should have gone home after you fell asleep anyways...” I bite my lip.

“Why?” he frowns, “I mean, if you wanted to leave that’s okay I mean-”

“No, Patrick...” I squeeze his shoulder gently, “I just feel like I may have worn my welcome a bit..”

He shakes his head, “You aren’t. I meant to ask if you wanted to stay before I fell asleep on you...” he blushes lightly, “Sorry about that I um, I cling a bit in my sleep. S’why Joe sleeps on the floor if he ever sleeps over.”

“I didn’t really mind the clinging, I’m the same way.” I shrug.

“Did you take off my glasses for me?” he asks, pushing them back onto his face.

“Yeah.” I nod, “It looked really uncomfortable...”

“It’s not so bad.” he shrugs, “I forget to take them off a lot.”

“That’s adorable.” I grin.

He blushes, “No, it’s not...”

“Shh.” I put a finger to his lips.

He rolls his eyes and bites my finger.

“Oww!” I pout.

He shrugs, “Your fault.”

“I didn’t make you bite me.” I pout more.

“What do you want me to do? Kiss it better?” He asks sarcastically. 

“Precisely.” I nod. 

“No Pete.”

“Aww.. but Patrick you hurted me!” I give him puppy dog eyes.

“I’m not kissing your finger.” he snorts.

“Who said anything about my finger?” I wink playfully.

He blushes and lets out a nervous laugh, “Shut up.”

I pout, “What’s wrong with kissing me?”

“Two words, Wentz. Morning. Breath.” he sits up and looks around for his hat before shoving it over his disheveled hair.

I chuckle, “Well if that’s the only problem...”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll make out later.” He rolls his eyes, “But if you want breakfast you should follow me to the kitchen.” he stands up.

I grin and follow him to the kitchen, whispering, “Are we gonna wake your mom?”

“Nope.” a voice from behind makes me jump.

“Morning mom.” Patrick yawns.

“Morning boys.” she smiles, “I’m on my way to work.” she fills me in.

I nod, “Oh...I um, I’m sorry about staying without asking, I just, everyone was asleep and I fell asleep-”

She laughs softly, “Don’t worry about it.” she walks over and hugs Patrick, kissing the top of his head, “Love you. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

He blushes lightly and nods, “Okay mom, love you.”

She smiles at me, “Feel free to stay tonight too if you want.”

“I um, Okay.” 

She walks outside and locks the door.

“You like pancakes?” Patrick asks with another yawn.

I nod, “Yeah, but you don’t have to make me breakfast or anything.” I shrug.

He rolls his eyes and gets the mix, cinnamon, a spatula and pan.

“What’s the cimma-cimanon-DAMN IT CI-”

“I add it to the mix, and I have issues saying it sometimes too.” He cuts me off.

“What if I’m allergic to it?” I pout.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry I won’t-”

“Patrick I’m not allergic to it.” I grin.

He narrows his eyes before hitting me with the spatula. I gasp before grabbing a spatula and hitting him back. We begin sword fighting with the spatulas until we knock the pancake mix onto the floor.

“DROP YOUR WEAPON!” Patrick holds up his hand, “I need to get that...”

I nod.

He turns and bends to pick up the pancake mix, and I honestly can’t help it. I smack his ass with the spatula, preparing for any punch or violent words he throws at me. He yelps and spills more of the mix onto the floor before shoving me against the wall.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT!?” 

I hold up my hands in defeat, dropping the spatula, “Please don’t kill me, I act on impulse a lot.” I try to wiggle out of his grip. Fuck, this kid is stronger than he looks.

He lets go and picks up the pancake mix for the second time and slams it onto the counter before grabbing a bowl, slamming it down as well. I bite my lip nervously. I didn’t intend to make him angry.

“Patrick?” I say softly.

“What!?” he snaps, putting water and pancake mix into the bowl.

“I-I’m sorry...” I bite my lip harder.

“Yeah.” he adds a little cinnamon before stirring it angrily.

“P-Patrick I’m really sorry.” I put a hand on his shoulder, wincing with he shrugs it off.

“Just, fucking shut up a minute, okay?” He growls, hands shaking.

“O-Okay.”

He takes a deep breath before he stops stirring and turns to me.

I jump back, shielding my face as I wait for his punch, then freeze in shock as he hugs me.

“I’m sorry.” he mumbles into my shoulder.

“I-I..what?” I hug back timidly.

“I just, it doesn’t take much for me to get angry... and you startled me.. I’m sorry I almost punched you.” he frowns.

“Hey...it’s okay.” I smile softly, “Really, I probably deserved a punch for that.”

He shakes his head, “You didn’t. I’m sorry.”

I rest my palm on his cheek, “Stop apologizing.”

“I can’t help it...” he sighs, leaning into my touch.

I bite my lip, “Patrick?”

He looks up into my eyes, “Hmm?”

“You have pancake mix in your hair...” I chuckle softly.

He laughs with me before nuzzling my chest, getting the mix onto my shirt.

I smile at him, feeling something pull at my heart. He’s adorable. Even when he’s seconds from kicking my ass, he’s adorable. 

“So...I think we should actually get to the pancakes now.” he smiles, “Before I _do_ kick your ass.”

I laugh, “I could take you.” 

“No you couldn’t.” He grins before putting the pan on the burner.

 

I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but we’re watching The Breakfast Club, and we’re most definitely cuddling on the livingroom floor. My chin is resting on his head, the hat abandoned off to the side. His back is against my chest and my arm is draped around him. Our legs are tangled together, and perhaps we could claim this to be completely accidental if we weren’t both awake.

“Glad you don’t think it’s lame I have this movie.” he mumbles.

“Lame? This is one of the best movies ever.” I smile and tighten my arm around his waist. I can almost feel him blushing.

“I-I think so too.” he turns his head to look up at me, “Pete?”

“Yeah?” I smile.

“Marry me?” he grins.

I chuckle, “When it’s legal, kiddo.”

He huffs and turns back to the movie, mumbling something to the effect of, “I can still kick your ass.”

“I believe that’s domestic violence, Pattycakes.” I laugh.

He fights off a smile, but I can tell it’s there. I sigh and pull him a little closer. There’s nothing wrong with cuddling a guy you met a few days ago, when his mother could just walk in at any moment, nothing at all.


	5. The Thing About High School Bullies is, They Never Really Grow Out of It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pete and Patrick get into a few fights, and run into one of Patrick's old high school bullies.

Yet again, I didn’t intend to fall asleep cuddling Patrick Stump, but here I am. I rub my eyes and look around groggily as I hear the door opening. A blush creeps onto my cheeks when his mother walks into the living room.

“Well this isn’t exactly what I expected to see walking inside but....” she shrugs and walks into the kitchen.

I carefully untangle myself from Patrick and follow her, “I-It’s not what it looks like, we-we fell asleep.”

She laughs, shaking her head, “And that’s exactly what it looked like. So what was really going on then?” 

“L-Like I said, sleeping.”

“Pretty close together though... a bit closer than most boys your age would be to each other.” She grins.

“It’s not-we aren’t-we just-”

“Calm down, Pete I’m just teasing you.” she laughs, shaking her head as she puts groceries into the fridge, “Although, and please keep in mind I’m not an idiot, you do seem quite...fond of Patrick.” she folds her arms across her chest.

“I, well we just, we’re friends.”

“Never said you weren’t. He did mention you ask him to marry you a lot though.”

“I-I don’t mean it... he knows that.”

“Mom _please_ stop.” 

Patrick’s voice makes me jump and look back at him, wondering how much he’s heard. Not that I’ve said anything incriminating, or that I have any reason to worry. Because Patrick and I are friends.

His mother laughs and puts up the last of the groceries, “Alright Patrick.”

“You do make a great pillow, though.” Patrick smiles at me.

I grin at him, “ Do I?”

“Shut up.” he nudges me.

“Make me.” I wink.

He rolls his eyes and looks back to his mom, “Mind if I use the car?”

She shakes her head, “Go ahead, I’m home for the night.”

“Come on before you propose to my mother.” He grabs my arm and pulls me towards the door.

“I knew I forgot something!” I pull my arm from his and run to the kitchen.

“PETE!” He runs after me.

“Patrick’s mom will you mar-ow!” I pout and rub my shoulder where Patrick punched.

“Pattycakes, no hitting.” His mother scowls.

“But he-”

“Listen to your mommy Pattycakes, hitting is mean.” I grin at him.

He glares at me, “Call me that one more time and I will kill you.”

I lean to his ear and whisper, “Pattycakes.” before running as fast as I can outside.”

“YOU FUCKER!” He runs after me.

I look over my shoulder, eyes widening. This kid runs fast. I run faster, almost regretting calling him a name he hates. Almost. He grabs my arm and shoves me against a tree.

“Don’t call me that.” He looks up into my eyes, “Don’t treat me like I’m a fucking kid.”

I frown, “Patrick I wasn’t-”

“Yes you were.”

“Patrick I didn’t mean to upset you, I was just messing with you.” I put my hand on his shoulder.

“That’s it again. Treating me like a kid. You _wanted_ to piss me off. For one of the nicest, most thoughtful people I’ve met, you’re really fucking great at the asshole facade. There’s a point where it isn’t completely fake anymore. And if...” he bites his lip, “If you keep doing it...the Pete you hide...he’ll fade away.”

I look down, “Patrick I’m sorry...”

“It’s stupid for me to get angry over something like that. But I don’t like it.”

“I think it’s cute...” I smile.

“You’re insane.” he rolls his eyes, “So, want to go with me to get pizza now?”

I nod, “Hell yeah.”

 

 

I’ve known Patrick almost a month now, and I’m becoming unaware of how I survived this long without him. He reminds me to eat, talks me out of doing whatever stupid thing I’m considering, and mostly he lets me be myself. I’m still a sarcastic asshole sometimes, but he helps me realize when I’ve gone too far. We’ve fought, verbally and physically now, and I honestly think it’s helped our friendship get stronger. I hardly ever go home now, and Patrick doesn’t mind. He hasn’t been to my house, and I think that’s my fault. I told him about my dad. Homophobic, judgmental, and just mean. It hurts me to think that anyone could be truly mean to someone as nice and golden as Patrick, but those people exist. I’ve seen it a few times, and I’m afraid my dad would be one of those people. People who take his shyness as weakness, an open invitation for torment. I wish Patrick would let them see a little bit of that anger. Not just because it would be nice to see that fire pointed in another direction, but because maybe they’d back off. If he’d take up for himself. 

“Just one punch.” I prod him as we walk out of a coffee shop.

While we waited in line, the guy behind us called Patrick a fag, and a variety of other names, making the shorter boy’s eyes water.

“No. That fucker’s kicked my ass once, don’t feel like a replay.” He sips his coffee.

“Oh come on! That was because you didn’t fight back. If you’d just-”

“Stop. I’m not getting into a fight just because he’s a jerk.”

“But Patrick-”

“PETE!” He grabs my shoulder, “Look, it’s not worth it.” he bites his lip, “And he just, it’s a tough situation there okay?”

I frown, “What do you mean?”

“He’s gay. He’s also my ex...some of his buddies found us kissing between classes once... he shoved me away. Pushed me against a locker and beat the shit out of me. Told them I just grabbed him and kissed him.” he shrugs a shoulder, “So I’d rather run away then hit him.”

I clench my fists, “Right, then you wait here.” I walk back to the shop as the guy is walking outside. I open the lid of my coffee and walk over to him, splashing the contents onto his face.

He yelps in pain and wipes the scorching hot coffee off of his face, “WHAT THE FUCK!?”

“You’re pathetic.” I seethe.

“You don’t even fucking know me!” He shoves me once he can see.

“I know enough, you coward.” I shove back.

“P-Pete, stop.” Patrick grabs my arm and starts pulling me away.

“Oh, you’re with this fag then?” he spits onto the ground, “Should have known. Can’t fight your own battles, Patrick?”

“Fuck you.” Patrick pulls me away, “C’mon Pete.”

“That’s right, Patrick. Save your boyfriend.”

Patrick lets go of my arm, and turns back, “You’re just jealous because you’re so fucked up you’ll spend the rest of your life with some poor woman. The both of you will be miserable because she’ll be stuck with you. And you? You won’t be getting it up the ass like you want, Trent.”

“Fuck you, we both know I’d top!” Trent, I assume his name is, says.

“You mean with a guy?” the guy that was waiting with him in line asks.

“N-No I mean-”

“Exactly, with a guy. Although he’s completely lying about the dominant part. We both know that.” Patrick winks before throwing a punch, knocking him down, before grabbing my hand and breaking into a run. Once they’ve stopped following we stop to catch our breath.

“Fuck, Patrick!” I grin, “You’re such a badass.”

He rolls his eyes, “Yeah, yeah.”

“So you’re dominant then, huh?” I wink.

“I just saved your ass, don’t make me kick it.” Patrick grins back at me.

“Thanks for that. The coffee idea was really all I had.”

He snorts, “I know... you now owe me your life.” 

I look down at our hands, still laced together, “Oh yeah?” I look up to him.

He shyly pulls away his hand, “Yeah.”

“Fags!” some teenage kid who thinks the world revolves around him shouts over at us.

“Yeah? Got a problem with it, look away.” I yell back before pulling, a very startled, Patrick into a kiss.

He starts to squirm away at first, before returning the kiss, softly and lightly.


	6. Anything With a Pulse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick's reaction to Pete's kiss isn't exactly the one Pete expected.

I’m very confused, and a little scared. One minute, Patrick and I were kissing, pressed up close to each other, lips moving against each other in perfect rhythm, the next I’m looking up at him from the ground, where he shoved me. He looks terrified. His eyes are wide, his face is even closer to paper white than normal, and he’s fidgeting. Terrified, not angry. This is almost a good sign.

“Patrick?” I say softly, hesitantly getting to my feet.

“I-I’m sorry...I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck. I’m sorry! Please don’t h-hate me!” his voice trembles along with the rest of him.

“Patrick...” I pull him into my arms, “Patrick I could never hate you, okay?”

“You will.” he looks around awkwardly at the small audience we’ve acquired, “Can we um. Can we go somewhere else?”

“Of course, ‘Trick.” I frown and put my arm around his shoulders, leading the still trembling boy down the street to his house, “What do you mean I will? It’s not possible for me to hate you.” I nudge him playfully.

He shakes his head, repeating, “You will.”

We walk the rest of the way to his house in silence. I don’t know what to say, or how to help until he tells me whatever ridiculous reason he has to think I’ll hate him. He’s my best friend, the only person who deals with every side of me. He cares about the asshole Pete just as much as the caring Pete. How could I hate the one person in the entire world who seems to completely understand and accept me? I walk with him inside, say a quick hello to his mother before walking into his bedroom and plopping onto the bed as he fidgets and paces.

“Patrick, calm down...”

“Anything with a pulse.” He growls under his breath.

I bite my lip, “Patrick I-”

“I knew it was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have. Shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“Let...what happen?”

“Look. You just, you can’t kiss me okay? If we want... if we want to maintain our already fucked up friendship, you can’t kiss me.” he pulls at his hair.

“Oh... I’m sorry I just-”

“I know. You’re affectionate when you’re excited, and it was my fault. I’m not mad at you. You’re just... affectionate. But I can’t-”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” I interrupt him, “Because, you’ve never mentioned one.”

He laughs darkly, “Of course I don’t, look at me!” he kicks the wall.

I cross my arms, “I’m looking, and don’t understand why you’re not managing to keep at least ten boyfriends at a time.”

He rolls his eyes, “Whatever, that isn’t the point. No kissing me.”

“Why?” I frown, “I mean, if you don’t like it that’s okay I just want to know...”

“That’s the problem! I like it too much, okay?” He kicks the leg of his desk, knocking a couple books to the floor, making me jump, “And you’re affectionate. With everyone. I can’t. I can’t be one of those people okay? Despite my pulse, you can’t make out with me. Ever.” he throws a few things from the desk across the room.

“I don’t understand why liking it is the problem....” I raise an eyebrow, dodging notebooks and pens.

“BECAUSE IT MEANS MORE TO ME THAN IT DOES TO YOU!” he shoves his records off the desk, onto the floor.

I jump up and shove him against the wall, “Listen to me, and you listen good, Stump. I didn’t kiss you because I just felt like making out with someone. I kissed you because despite the fact that you’re fucking insane and you’re going to kill someone with that temper, I’m falling in love with you.”

“You...what?” his shoulders relax.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous.” I shake my head, “Fuck, Patrick. In barely over a month you’ve known me more than most people have bothered trying my entire life. And yeah, I’m a bit of a kissing slut at times, but those other people I’ve kissed? They knew in advance it was nothing more. Nothing emotional to it. I wouldn’t kiss you if I didn’t mean it. Because this... our fucked up friendship is the best thing in the world to me. I wouldn’t risk it on meaningless kisses.”

His cheeks flush, “Oh...”

“Now that we have that settled, am I still banned from kissing you?” I pout.

He shakes his head, “N-No..”

“Good. Because no matter what you answered, I was still going to do this.” I press our lips together, still holding him against the wall. He kisses back and pulls me even closer my the collar of my shirt. 

“Patrick is everything okay I heard-oh.” We break apart as his mother looks around the room, “It looks like a tornado went through here..”

“S-Sorry I-I’ll clean it u-up.” Patrick says, eyes glued to the carpet.

“Is Pete’s life at risk, or can I leave?” she raises an eyebrow.

“Please leave.” Patrick picks up his records and stacks them up neatly.

She nods, “We do need to talk later, the three of us.” She looks from Patrick, to me, before leaving the room.

He picks up everything he’s thrown and puts it back on his desk neatly.

“How long you think we can stall that little talk with your mom?” I wrap my arms around him from behind.

He jumps lightly at my touch before relaxing, “I um. I don’t know. Probably not long, since she’s making dinner and oh God this better not be the time she decides to give me the sex talk.” He hits his head on the wall.

I frown and turn him around in my arms, kissing his forehead, “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” 

“Hit your head.” I kiss it again, “It’s a brilliant head, it’d be a shame if you damaged it.”

“Trust me, this head is already pretty damaged.” he sighs, “I um... I’m sorry about...” he gestures to the room.

“Oh, it’s nothing.” I smile, “You should see how I get when I’m angry. Only I break things, expensive things my dad threatens my life over.”

“You...You want to try this...with me?” he bites his lip, “Because what if my temper does kill someone?”

“Then I’ll be here to help you bury the body.” I peck his lips, “Assuming it isn’t my own, in which case, stuff my body into a bag and carry me everywhere you go. I’ll have to accept you may do things to my body, because even dead, who could resist this?” I wink.

He laughs and hugs me close, “Deal.”


End file.
